Stars
by MoonxLauri
Summary: Theme # 34 Stars


They mocked us.

They mocked us by putting us in canoes, stuffed with white flowers and votive candles. As if we were fallen warrior chiefs and this was our funeral. I suppose it was, seeing as they were setting us out to sea with nothing.

I was the last one to be put in one of the three canoes, cradled like a baby as I was set down. I gazed up at Korse as he loomed over me to light the candle at the helm of my wooden vessel. The faint flame threw strange shadows across his face, and allowed me to see the beads of sweat on his bald head. The man's chocolate brown eyes caught mine as his lips pulled back into a grin.

"No famous last words?" He sneered. I did not respond, for indeed I had no brave words to say, nothing heroic or inspiring as Mikey, Ray and I were pushed out to sea. We did not try to free our hands and feet, what was the point? We had nothing but shambles of a society to go back to, nothing but blood, death and smothering heat. Gerard, our leader was dead and the Killjoys had fallen. There was, of course, pockets of Killjoys still fighting BL/ind, but hardly enough to be called a resistance. But help them! You're part of the Fabulous Four minus one! But you don't get it, we're so exhausted, numbed by all the skirmishes and battles we've fought in and most often directed.

We drifted for days, with only the night showing there was any passage of time. I came to love the stars, how they cooled my sun burned face and neck. They twinkled gently and did not hurt my eyes like the cruel sun did. I suppose if Gerard wasn't dead, and we weren't floating in our slow demise, I would have panicked at the apathy that now ruled me. I no longer cared about anything but those beautiful stars that eased this soul crushing depression. But could you blame me for it?

We had spent half our lives fighting BL/ind to lose it all in a few minutes. We had not only lost Gerard but the Killjoy world itself.

During our time in BL/ind, after our botched rescue mission to get Grace Jeanette, they force fed us pills. They didn't turn us into their smiling mindless zombies but instead messed with our bodies.

The reason for this is that we would be trophies of triumph for a time. BL/ind defined it's world in black and white, and there were no gray areas. This applied to appearances as well. You were either beautiful or ugly. We were trophies, and because of that, were changed to be beautiful.

The pills stopped the growth of our hair, and because we had to chew them, kept our teeth white and our breath clean. The reason for stopping our hair growth was to prevent scruffy beards and uni-brows. This made it easy for BL/ind to groom us, shave once, wax our brows and after that the pills did the rest.

It was the ultimate beauty tool, I had to admit. But it felt strange to have almost perfectly smooth cheeks, jaw, and chin, as if we were once again boys who had yet to hit puberty. The pills would continue to work for the next week or two, Korse had told me as he had carried me to my death boat, then our bodies would resume growing hair.  
At least we'd be somewhat pretty when we died.

I sighed with happiness and relief when the night began to creep across the sky, my precious stars coming out. I must have fallen into a doze, because I was awoken by what sounded like singing. At first, I passed it off as my mind playing tricks, it had happened a few times by now. But the sound of the water being disturbed was what told me the singing was real. I had become adept at being able to hear the difference in the certain sounds the ocean made. The sounds of when the ocean felt happy, sad, angry, or when something was disturbing it's natural pattern. And at the moment, it was the latter that was happening with the singing becoming all the louder.

"**Komm in mein Boot  
ein Sturm kommt auf  
und es wird Nacht**  
_Come in my boat  
A storm is rising  
And it is becoming night_  
**Wo willst du hin  
so ganz allein  
treibst du davon**  
_Where do you want to go  
So completely alone  
You are drifting away_  
**Wer hält deine Hand  
wenn es dich  
nach unten zieht**  
_Who will hold your hand  
When it pulls  
You under_."

The voice was beautiful, in a plaintive way, singing with a child like purity, despite the bass voice marking it as belonging to a man. I couldn't understand the words he sang, for they were in another language, but they were lyrics of longing, not even the different language could disguise that. It was this woebegone voice that roused me from my apathy, and made me wish that I had freed myself. I wanted to be able to sit up and see who my savior was. I was given my wish when my savior's canoe jostled mine, and he leaned over to see what was in it.

The first thing I saw in the fading light were his moss green eyes, shimmering with curiosity. He looked up, Mikey and Ray must have drifted ahead of me, before he reached over and undid my bindings, being careful not to capsize either one of us.

"Wash yourself then get in." He ordered. I nodded, glad just to have another human companion, and basically rolled off my death bed into the frigid water.

I had thought for some reason that since I was burned by the sun that the water would be warm too. But I was proven wrong and came up gasping as my stiff joints and cramping muscles protested at suddenly being made to work. My savior dunked me before hauling me into his vessel with ease. "Drink." He ordered as he pushed a jug of water into my hands before he picked up his oars, and with steady strokes caught up to Mikey and Ray's canoes.  
My savior did the same with Mikey and Ray, urging me to drink and give the water to my comrades.

I put the cool plastic rim to my parched lips and drank, and once I started, I felt I couldn't stop, forcing him to take the jug from me and give it to Mikey. "Slowly or you will vomit." He cautioned, giving me a look before he began to row.  
He waited until Mikey and Ray had, slowly, drunk their fill before asking "You are Kobra Kid, Jet Star, and Fun Ghoul correct?" He looked at each of us in turn as he said our aliases.

"We're just Mikey, Ray, and Frank now. Not so Fabulous anymore." I joked with a wry smile twisting my lips.

"I am Till." He greeted, holding out his hand which Mikey, then Ray, and finally I shook. Till's hand was warm and easily enveloped my hand and fingers.

"The Storyteller?" Mikey asked surprise coloring his tone as he raised his eyebrows.

"For now I am only Till." He responded.

"Why are you rowing across the ocean?" I jumped in, puzzled why someone would ever willingly try and kill themselves in this way. Till chuckled causing a small smile to come to my lips in response.

"I go slowly, that is why I am gone for two years from the Killjoy world."

"How do you not die from thirst?" He smiled and gestured to the back of his boat. I looked to see he had tied about twenty to twenty five jugs of water together from there to his boat. The jugs bobbed in the water and did not seem to slow the boat, from what I could tell.

"Food?" I persisted. The big man grinned, the edges of his eyes crinkling up.

"BL/ind is not the only ones with pills. I am given food pills by them if I remain a peaceful Storyteller."

"They could be trying to poison you!"

Till shrugged, not seeming to particularly care about this little detail.

"They have no reason to kill me, I merely tell stories to the Killjoys and their BL/inded people. Besides I do not go into their areas of command, I know nothing that could help the Killjoys." He answered.

"But they've tortured you." It was Mikey who said this. Ray and I gave him puzzled looks, wondering where he got that idea from. Till chuckled

"You have sharp eyes, it would have taken others longer."  
When Ray and I still looked at Mikey stupidly, the sun bleached blond gave an irritated noise  
"Look at his arms and chest you idiots."

Till stretched out his arm and turned it from side to side and it was then we saw the razor thin criss crossing lines that wrapped around his arm. The healed skin was obvious in the way it was a bit shiner, and a bit fresher then the unharmed skin. I realized that this was the reason Till wore his cloak. It was to hide the scars that must wrap around his shoulders, torso and back.

"Why do you continue to tell stories if they hurt you?" Ray softly questioned looking upon Till with new found respect.

"They need hope, both sides. And I am a poet at heart, I have not the conscience to willingly kill others." Till responded

"Even though they hurt you?" I prodded, upset that those heartless bastards would dare harm this obviously gentle soul.

"It is only when I enter to the Zones do they hurt me, and it's done only once to make sure I won't spy for either side. They don't care to kill me, and they leave me alone when I leave for home."

I opened my mouth to continue to protest but he shook his head. "I will not argue the matter. Sleep if you wish, I'm going to continue." He stated as he grasped the oars and began to row again, for he had stopped when we had begun to question him about his scars. Mikey and Ray nodded and laid down, curled up, their back pressed against each others. I put my feet against Mikey's, and curled up as small as I could, bundling my wet jacket into a ball to make a soggy pillow.

The rocking lulled me into a doze, the lapping of the water a comforting white noise. It was not long before Till began to sing, and though I didn't understand the language, I thought I heard a tone of anger perhaps?

"**Getadelt wird wer Schmerzen kennt  
vom Feuer das die Haut verbrennt  
Ich werf ein Licht  
in mein Gesicht  
Ein heißer Schrei  
Feuer Frei!**  
_Whoever knows pain becomes criticized  
From the fire that burned up the skin  
I throw a light  
In my face  
A hot scream  
Fire at will!_"

There was definitely a harsh edge to his words. I felt guilty that we, I in particular, had bothered him so much about his torment. It was absolutely callous of me to have done so.

He continued to sing, and his bass voice was soothing, despite the tone of it. It did not matter for the moment, not after so long with only the sound of water for a voice. Eventually his voice faded and soon after I heard him fiddle with the oars, before he carefully lowered himself onto his side.

"Are you comfortable?" He quietly asked his voice low and close, his body curled around mine. I could feel his hips against mine, the slow rise and fall of his chest against my back, the way he had pushed his knees into the back of mine. _Spooning, he's spooning you_ my shocked mind told me.

"Yes." I whispered and as I said this I took a slow inhale, exhale, and relaxed. It felt too intimate, I barely knew this man, but for years now, too fast had become the Killjoy way of life style. Death tended to speed up the normal stages of friendship, relationships, and attractions. When Death could come from any number of people or places there was no luxury of time. Till did not help matters when he cocooned me and him in his dove white cloak but I was glad for the warmth.

The days and nights passed by in occasional conversation but most often silence. All four of us took turns rowing, and if we weren't rowing we'd swim along side or a little behind the canoe.

The first time I saw Till swim I marveled at the ease with which he moved through the water. It was then I also saw how much of a swimmers body he had, what with his broad shoulders and chest, and narrow hips with strong arms and legs. I felt like a twig compared to him with my short, slender body and my delicate features that no doubt appeared feminine compared to his.  
But disregarding my stupid self-esteem problems, our journey seemed to drag on endlessly, though Till told us we were going quite quickly. I'm sure you can imagine how happy all four of us were when we caught sight of dry land. It was then we traveled on foot towards Till's home.

Till's motherland was Germany, and what a beautiful country it was! There was so much grass! So many trees! There were too many to count and I loved it. No more slow dying in the desert, no more barren emptiness, and no more freezing at night. It was the most beautiful sight to see nature re-claim what was rightfully hers. I could not see why Till would ever abandon his sanctuary.

The only part where Nature could not thrive were Germany's huge cities. It was sad but those were the places BL/ind resided. The other unfortunate thing was that the trees also hid my lovely stars. At first I had panicked at realizing this, but Till's voice had soon come to be my new security blanket.

Till's forests had their own dangers of course. Wild animals, poisonous plants, and the vastness of the trees. I could tell that this last part bothered Mikey and Ray. They were used to the flat empty expanse of desert, not giant trees that could easily hide an enemy within their midst. But I on the other hand was in love. My life would be near complete if I could spend the rest of my life in the forests, there was only one thing missing.

Till

Those intimate nights at sea, nestled into each other for warmth and admittedly companionship, had bonded Till and I. It was impossible not to feel fond of the person you had held and been held by for two months.

Once on dry land though, no more did we share that intimacy. I had thought of approaching him, but was terrified of failing. Failing of what? Capturing his heart? I myself did not know that answer and could only agonize over my spinelessness.

It was a warm late spring night and I was lying in bed. Till had shown me where an abandoned village was on one of our many long walks. How nothing had been disturbed because of how quickly and silently BL/ind had stolen those villagers away.

The cottage I was in was Till's favorite, he had said so, and what better place to brood upon that frustratingly fascinating man then his favorite hide out? _Perhaps he'll get so worried because I've been gone all day he'll come looking for me_, I mused though I made a sarcastic noise at the thought. It was hardly unusual for Till to disappear for two or three days and the same applied to me. He and I were at ease with roaming the giant forest, whereas Ray and Mikey were usually back to Till's lone cottage, not the one in the village, by sunset.

"The power of love  
A force from above  
Cleaning my sooooouuuulll." I drew out the word grinning and laughing at myself as I did so, tired of brooding. "Flame on burn desire  
Love with tongues of fire  
Purge the soul." At this point I laid my hands over my heart in a dramatic gesture. "Make love your goal." I finished smiling at the connotation of the phrase.

"**Mit dir bin ich auch allein**  
_Without you I am alone too_."

I bolted upright, startled by the growl of Till's voice. I had thought I was alone. He stood in the doorway, wearing his dove white cloak and jeans. The cloak emphasized his physique, and reminded of the scars it hid. He strode across the room and settled on the edge of the bed by my hip. He gazed at me with those soulful eyes, waiting...waiting for me to accept him, I realized with a jolt.

Upon this epiphany I reached out and cupped his stubble covered cheek. Those beautiful sea glass green eyes closed as his warm hand covered mine. But it was only a few moments before Till opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows in question, so very tired from waiting.

"I am yours." I murmured. A smile that made the edges of Till's eyes crinkle up and show his joy came to his lips when he heard this. I took my hand away and laid down on my side, facing him. I held out my arms and he again smiled, this time in amusement. Till pulled the bow that held his cloak together and laid the cloak over me before he laid on his back and tucked me into his side, my head resting on his scarred chest. "Will you sing Till? I miss hearing you." I confessed.

"Of course." He rumbled as he began to stroke his fingers through my hair.

"**Weh mir, oh weh  
Und die Vögel singen nicht mehr**  
_Woe is me, oh woe  
And the birds sing no more_  
**Ohne dich kann ich nicht sein  
Ohne dich  
Mit dir bin ich auch allein  
Ohne dich  
Ohne dich zähl ich die Stunden ohne dich  
Mit dir stehen die Sekunden  
Lohnen nicht**  
_Without you I cannot be  
Without you  
Whout you I am alone too  
Without you  
Without you I count the hours without you  
Without you the seconds stand still  
They aren't worth it_  
**Auf den Ästen in den Gräben  
ist es nun still und ohne Leben  
Und das Atmen fällt mir ach so schwer  
Weh mir, oh weh  
Und die Vögel singen nicht mehr**  
_On the branches, in the ditches  
It's now silent and without life  
And breathing becomes oh so hard for me  
Woe is me, oh woe  
And the birds sing no more_  
**Ohne dich kann ich nicht sein  
Ohne dich  
Mit dir bin ich auch allein  
Ohne dich  
Ohne dich zähl ich die Stunden ohne dich  
Mit dir stehen die Sekunden  
Lohnen nicht ohne dich**  
_Without you I cannot be  
Without you  
Without you I am alone too  
Without you  
Without you I count the hours without you  
Without you the seconds stand still  
They aren't worth it without you_."

By the time he finished the song, his sweetheart was almost completely asleep. "Mein Süßer." Till affectionately murmured as he rubbed Frank's back.

"Why...so sad?" Frank sleepily asked, hardly making sense with his incoherent thought, but Till understood what he meant.

"It is how I feel without you." He answered. Frank sighed and nestled closer, right arm wrapped around Till's waist.

"Never leave you." He mumbled just before he slipped into unconsciousness. The older man gave Frank a sweet smile as he gazed out at the stars Frank loved so much.


End file.
